Distractions, Doodles & Dress Sense
by anonwhat
Summary: Draco gets distracted in the library.


Title: Distractions, Doodles & Dress Sense

Rating: R

Beta: simeysgirl

A/N: Written for hp_humpdrabbles humpfest 2011 over at livejournal using the prompts snogging/groping, Hogwarts library and secrets.

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><p>Draco put down his quill and nibbled on him bottom lip. He couldn't concentrate with Potter staring at him. What was he even looking at? Quickly looking down at himself, Draco saw no reason Potter should be staring. His dark grey jumper was immaculate. Not even a speck of fluff.<p>

Eventually Potter looked away, and with a puzzled frown Draco brushed down the front of his jumper and picked up his quill in an attempt to continue his Transfiguration essay.

Having spent all morning alone in the library, Draco had slowly worked his way through his Arithmancy homework and done some research into the potion he would be brewing on Monday. Then Potter had walked into the library, sat down at a table not far from Draco's and ruined everything. Between Potter's bouts of gazing in Draco's direction and Draco's compulsive need to Potter-watch, it had taken Draco the better part of an hour simply to write the introduction to his Transfiguration essay.

As he re-read a paragraph in the library book he was using for reference, Draco sighed, still not taking in the words as his mind wandered to Potter once again. Since their return to school in the wake of the war, Draco had made an effort to keep his head down, his mouth shut and for some reason, his eyes on Potter. He would watch Potter working in class, watch him eat in the Great Hall and watch him laugh with his friends in the corridors. Draco found that he liked seeing Potter happy, and told himself that this was because he was grateful for all Potter had done for the wizarding world, and for Draco personally, during the war. It hadn't been until Christmas, when Potter had gone away for the holidays and Draco had discovered he missed him that Draco admitted to himself that it was actually because he fancied Potter. A little bit.

Abandoning the book he was attempting to read and the essay he was failing to write, Draco leant back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them it was to see Potter looking towards him again. Feeling uncomfortable in Potter's line of sight Draco fidgeted and tried again to figure out what the hell Potter was looking at.

It was actually easy to disregard the notion that Potter was looking at Draco. He had left his dormitory looking perfectly presentable; this was a brand new designer jumper. So Potter wasn't transfixed by some awful knitted thing like the kind Draco had spotted Weasley wearing a few times. Draco knew he looked good, fabulous even, but he also knew Potter wouldn't be looking at him for that reason. Eliminating these options left Draco with the fact that Potter must be looking at something in Draco's direction; something that wasn't Draco.

As he tried to suppress the bitter feeling that thought had created in his stomach, Draco looked around the room behind him. There was nothing there, just shelves full of books and the checkout desk. Draco's eyes narrowed. The checkout desk where Madam Pince was sat, scowling towards a group of Hufflepuffs who were whispering excitedly in the far corner.

Appalled, but unable to restrain himself, Draco whipped his head back to look at Potter.

"Do you have a secret crush on Madam Pince, Potter?" he hissed across the space separating them.

"What!" Potter hissed back, looking shocked. "Of course not! Don't be disgusting!"

Draco gave a shrug of affected nonchalance and pretended to go back to his essay.

With his head bent over his parchment Draco looked over at Potter through his fringe. He saw him turn around to gaze behind him at the door to the library, then back at Draco with a small frown. Draco wondered if Potter was waiting for someone, or if perhaps he was considering leaving the library. As much as Draco knew that if Potter left he could effectively get back to his essay, he also knew he didn't want Potter to leave. He didn't often see Potter in the library, and never for extended periods of time, alone. Other than Potter's odd staring-at-nothing problem, Draco found himself enjoying the opportunity to sit quietly and simply watch the man he fancied. Quite a bit.

The time Potter spent on his work, Draco spent on Potter. He let his eyes rove over Potter's face. His hair, the same wild mess it always had been, would be wonderful to card fingers through. His skin was smooth and looked like it would be soft to touch. His neck was long and slender and... Draco looked back up at Potter's face quickly, not wanting his eyes—or his mind—to travel any further south. Instead he took in Potter's forehead, occasionally creasing as he tried to puzzle his work out. Draco found he wanted to kiss the frown away. Thoughts of kisses led Draco to gaze at Potter's lips. He had watched those lips a fair amount in recent weeks. He'd seen them smiling, talking, pursed, bitten, licked. Draco liked them all, and wished he could see them do all of that and more in his direction.

So caught up in his assessment of the finer points of Potter's facial features, Draco almost missed it when the library door opened and Weasley strolled in. Draco picked up is quill and cursed under his breath at Weasley for interrupting his Potter-watching time. And Potter's study time, of course.

Draco remained hunched over his parchment, but his eyes occasionally strayed over to Potter's table. Weasley had sat down next to Potter and they had begun a hushed conversation that Draco couldn't hear, no matter how much he strained to. He kept up the appearance of working by doodling with his quill, not really paying attention to what he was doing. Draco's focus was on Potter and Weasley.

During the course of the quiet conversation Draco noticed Weasley cast a couple of glances at him. This time Draco knew it was him who was being stared at; there was no mistaking the glare on Weasley's face. It only increased Draco's urge to know what they were talking about. He considered milling about closer to the pair, under the guise of searching for a book, but even Weasley would see through that façade.

As Draco considered other eavesdropping options—and berated himself for not buying some Extendible Ears while he was in that blasted Weasley shop over the summer—the hushed voices between Potter and Weasley rose in volume slightly. Weasley began making wild hand movements to the room at large and Potter was shaking his head. All of a sudden Weasley ceased his gesturing and his arms fell to the table. He could be heard clearly when he spoke at a normal volume in the quiet of the library.

"For God's sake, Harry, just tell him!"

"Shhhhh!" came Potter's urgent response, accompanied by quelling hand motions of his own.

Potter's eyes darted to Draco and then scanned the library.

Before Draco really had time to ponder the scene, Madam Pince had rushed over and began quietly, but angrily chastising Weasley for his outburst as only a librarian could. Eventually Weasley raised his hands in surrender and, after a few more words in Harry's ear, left the library.

Draco mouth was open slightly, as if he wanted to ask Potter what the hell had just happened. He felt sure it had something to do with him. Unfortunately Potter stood up abruptly, shocking Draco in to closing his mouth tight and quickly looking down at his parchment. The parchment that he now saw was covered in Draco's doodled pictures of _Potter_. Draco could feel his face reacting, though whether it was blushing or draining of colour, he wasn't sure.

A quick glance up at Potter showed that he was striding away from his table and in Draco's direction. Panicked, Draco grabbed at his Potter doodles and hastily turned them over. He willed his racing heart to slow down as he waited for Potter to approach him; to speak to him.

Instead, Potter walked right by him with hardly a glance. Draco let out a breath he cursed himself for holding and twisted in his seat to watch Potter as he disappeared a couple of aisles further down, into the Transfiguration section.

With Potter out of the way and not serving as a distraction Draco thought about what had just happened. All the time Potter had spent seemingly staring at Draco and the furtive glares Weasley had shot at him, along with Weasley's heated cry at Potter. Draco could only assume there was something Potter had to tell _him._ And Draco was almost burning with curiosity. He had to know.

Decision made, Draco rose from his chair, picked up the Transfiguration book he still hadn't read and slowly made his way towards where he knew Potter to be.

When Draco rounded the corner into the secluded aisle of the library his eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open at the sight before him. Fortunately Potter didn't see this; bent over the aisle's end bureau with his arse pointed at Draco as he was. Draco could only assume Potter was reading a book, but he really couldn't check because his eyes were glued to the arse of the bloke he fancied. A fucking lot.

There was a rustling as Potter turned a page in his book, and Draco shook himself out of his Potter's arse induced comatose state. Pushing away his urge to grasp that arse with both hands, as well as the stirring in his boxers, Draco strode up the aisle and leaned over Potter's shoulder.

"Still working on your Transfiguration essay?" asked Draco, pleased to see Potter jump in surprise. "I finished mine days ago." The lie was so easy, but it caused Draco to wince at the knowledge that he was trying to impress Potter.

"So then why do you have a book on the subject?" countered Potter, recovering quickly and eyeing the book in Draco's hand.

_Fuck. _Draco's excuse for being here had just backfired on him spectacularly.

"I was just returning it." Draco tried to think quickly. "As a favour for Madam Pince."

A smile slowly appeared on Potter's face and Draco had to fight back one of his own at the sight of it.

"So it's _you_ who has a secret crush on Madam Pince?" asked Potter, obviously smug.

"What the—no! Ew, you perverted—"

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Potter interrupted.

"What do you mean, what do I want?" Draco decided to plead ignorance. "I was simply—"

"No," Potter interrupted him once again. "You never do anyone favours, let alone—" Potter looked around Draco back up the aisle. "—miserable sour-faced librarians," he finished in a whisper, obviously aware of Madam Pince's acute hearing.

Draco set his jaw and looked Potter straight in the eye. He figured he had two choices. He could continue to lie and leave as soon as he could without getting the answers he came for, or he could throw caution to the wind and simply avoid the question by confronting Potter outright. Before he had time to weigh up the pros and cons, Draco's mouth made the decision for him.

"What the hell were you and Weasley whispering about? What is he wants you to tell me so badly? And why don't you want to tell me whatever it is?" he babbled all in a rush.

Potter looked shocked for a moment before pulling on a mask of indifference.

"How do you know we were even talking about you?" he asked, too casually.

"Potter, you've barely kept your eyes off me since you entered the library. I know I'm good looking, but all the staring was slightly unnerving."

Draco was pleased to see the embarrassed flush in Potter's cheeks.

"I—" Potter sighed. "Fine. It's—" He bit his bottom lip and looked Draco straight in the eye before continuing. "I like your jumper, okay?"

Draco blinked, looked down at his dark grey designer jumper and then back up at Potter.

"You—like my jumper?"

"Er, yeah." Potter raised an arm and rubbed at the back of his neck while suddenly avoiding Draco's eyes. "I like your jumper, and wanted to ask you where you got it, but I was afraid you'd take the piss."

Draco was flummoxed. He wasn't sure he believed Potter's story, but Potter also hadn't denied Draco's accusation that he was staring at him, which meant he _had_ be staring at him. Why would he make up a lame story about liking Draco's jumper when everyone knew Potter had no fashion sense? Perhaps he'd simply been admiring the jumper _on Draco; _Draco could make anything look good. Then it hit him. Potter hadn't been admiring the jumper at all; he'd been admiring _Draco._

"You thought I'd take the piss out of you for liking _my jumper_?" asked Draco, wondering if he could get some answers out of Potter yet.

"Well yeah, you're all fancy in your nice expensive clothes, while I just wear whatever's comfortable. You'd make fun of me if I said I wanted a jumper like yours." Potter's eyes were downcast as he spoke.

"I see," said Draco, and he did. Potter thought Draco was out of his league; that he wasn't good enough for Draco. Potter was convinced Draco would laugh at his advances. How wrong Potter was. "I wouldn't make you feel bad for liking _my jumper_. If anything, I'd be flattered that you like _my jumper_."

Potter looked up at Draco then, a slight frown on his face.

"Really?" Potter's disbelief was audible.

"Of course, I might even have admired _your jumper_." Draco began to wonder about the choice of metaphor, but couldn't really turn back now.

"My jumper?" Potter looked down at his scruffy t-shirt and jacket, then back up at Draco. "I'm not wearing a jumper."

"I know that," replied Draco. "That's not what—it doesn't matter." He shook his head. "So, I take it from Weasley's earlier exclamation that he knows you like _my jumper_?"

"He—yeah, he does." Potter frowned at Draco again, confusion clear on his face.

"And he's okay with you liking _my jumper_?"

"He thinks it's a bit weird, but..." Potter shrugged as he trailed off and stared hard at Draco. "Why are you saying it like that? '_My jumper'_? Is there something wrong with your jumper? Is there some fancy word for it instead like 'pullover' or 'sweater'?"

"What are you talking about, Potter?" Draco licked his lips nervously as he began worrying that he and Potter weren't actually discussing the same thing at all.

"I'm talking about your jumper, what are _you_ talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that you fancy me," replied Draco without thinking.

"That's not—" Potter's eyes went wide as he took a step back and bumped into the bookshelves behind him. "No. That's—no."

"Fuck." Draco felt his face burning and wanted to cover it with his hands. "You mean you do just—like my jumper?"

"I _do_ like your jumper..." Potter's voice was subdued and he was again rubbing absent-mindedly at the back of his neck.

"But you don't _just_ like my jumper?" Draco shifted from foot to foot nervously while attempting to figure out what Potter was trying to say. "Do you like my shoes or something, as well?"

"They are very nice shoes." Potter laughed. "But that's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" Draco's head was starting to hurt.

"I was just talking about your jumper before, but..." Potter sighed and closed his eyes before continuing. "But you weren't wrong—about what you were talking about."

"So you genuinely like my jumper _and _you fancy me?" A smile crept its way on to Draco's face.

"Yes," said Potter adamantly. "Hang on, does this mean—when you were saying you might like _my_ jumper—that you fancy me too?" He sounded so hopeful and Draco thought he was bloody adorable.

Smile firmly in place, Draco nodded and stepped closer to Potter. With his back still against the bookshelves Potter had nowhere to go, not that he seemed to want to get away. A sharp in-take of breath was Potter's only reaction.

"I've spent a lot of time watching you since the start of term, Potter." Now Draco knew Potter felt the same way he did, he didn't want to waste any time. "I think it's time to take action."

The colour in Potter's eyes seemed to darken as his pupils expanded at Draco's words. That was enough encouragement for Draco to lean in, one hand on Potter's face and one on his hips, and press their lips together lightly. A soft moan escaped Potter, so Draco deepened the kiss, both because he wanted to taste Potter more and to keep Potter quiet so they wouldn't be discovered.

As their mouths moved against each other, Potter's hands made their way to Draco's head; pulling gently at his hair and urging him closer at the same time. Draco let both his hands settle on Potter's hips, then slowly stroked his way around to Potter's lower back, holding their bodies closer together.

When the vision of Potter bent over the bureau swam to the front of Draco's mind, he found himself reaching down to grope Potter's arse with both hands. The shock of it caused Potter to break the kiss and gasp, while simultaneously jerking his hips forwards—into Draco. Draco suppressed a groan as he felt the hardness in Potter's trousers brush against his own.

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word the faint sound of footsteps made the two of them wrench apart. A stray elbow caused a couple of books to fall from the shelves behind Potter. The footsteps stopped abruptly, then started up again more urgently and headed in their direction.

Only a few seconds later Madam Pince appeared at the end of the aisle, scowling at the pair of them.

"I won't have you fighting in my library!" she hissed, barely above a whisper.

"We weren't—" started Potter, before being cut off.

"I don't want to hear it! Pick up those poor books and be on your way!"

Without giving Draco or Potter a chance to protest, Madam Pince whirled around and scurried off again.

"Perhaps we should move this somewhere else?" suggested Draco quietly.

"Yes," said Potter with a mischievous smile. "As much as I like that jumper, I can't wait to get you out of it."

- End -


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